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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) A Man Was Drawing Near to Me On that gray night of mournful drone, Apart from aught to hear, to see, I dreamt not that from shires unknown In gloom, alone, By Halworthy, A man was drawing near to me. I’d no concern at anything, No sense of coming pull-heart play; Yet, under the silent outspreading Of even’s wing Where Otterham lay, A man was riding up my way. I thought of nobody – not of one, But only of trifles – legends, ghosts – Though, on the moorland dim and dun That travellers shun About these coasts, The man had passed Tresparret Posts. There was no light at all inland, Only the seaward pharos-fire, Nothing to let me understand That hard at hand By Hennett Byre The man was getting nigh and nigher. There was a rumble at the door, A draught disturbed the drapery, And but a minute passed before, With gaze that bore My destiny, The man revealed himself to me. Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1483 |
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